


floor burns (hxh)

by netflixanduchiha



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Dynamic Character, F/M, Friendship, Hisoka is not a good bean in this one, Hunter x Hunter - Freeform, Mild Gore, Reincarnation, Sakiko Morow, Tragedy, hxh - Freeform, mild insanity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-07-17 18:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16101404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/netflixanduchiha/pseuds/netflixanduchiha
Summary: -young little girls aren't supposed know somuch of the wicked, and yet she was anever a young little girl to begin with.a hunter x hunter fanfic





	1. Chapter 1: SAMSARA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Context: This story takes place about 13 years before the original HXH timeline of these Hunter exam begins. Please use your imagination!
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Yoshihiro Togashi except for my oc, Sakiko.

I. SAMSARA

サムサラ

* * *

Staring at the wall, her hands glide across the smooth texture, occasionally running over rough bumps and jagged edges. It's silent in the room and the curtains fully cover the windows, secured tightly though untouched. The golden hue of a bulb is the only light that blankets the room and it flickers once. And then again, but this time the yellow incandescent completely shuts down, and black shadows envelop the room. There is no coincidence. The bulb had burned out, but wasn't it replaced yesterday?

(She doesn't know how long she's been in this room.)

But if there's one thing she's sure of, it's that she's not supposed to be alive. She is not supposed to exist. But somehow she has made it, creating herself in a world that does not need her. She was born out of lust and desperation. Now she lives in the haze of sinking relief and immediate sadness. She doesn't really know why, but that's okay.

Her father is absent as always, but he does not leave her alone for too long, because he knows she can't survive without him. She can't do anything for herself, and it frustrates her to no end. Too many questions and not enough answers when she thinks about this situation.

Never staying in one area for too long, it's too much for her when they're constantly moving from a hotel room to the other. He's not fit to be a father, but he is one. Mistakes, she muses, will always be compensated.

He's tall and muscularly built, and his narrow cheeks and sensual eyes can break many hearts. A prodigy in everything he puts his mind to. Essentially he has the potential to be the best in anything he desires. It's just too bad that he's not a man with good morals. His strange clothing matches him perfectly too, peculiar and eerily playful. She doesn't understand the way he acts, or the way he thinks, but she still cares about him all the same.

Sometimes he will come home in the middle of the night giggling manically with eyes full of satisfaction and deceit. Those nights he has a metallic smell of dirt and something else she doesn't know. Those nights he ignores her, and that's probably for the best, as it makes her tremble, scared. Even when her stomach is twisting with hunger and starving for water, or when she soils herself and her diaper is filled uncomfortably, she's quiet in fear that he'll do something to her. She doesn't want to know what that smell is every time he comes home. (It's blood.)

He calls himself Hisoka.

And Sakiko doesn't have a mother. She doesn't understand how she knows what that is, but it's not like that matters. (Dazedly she thinks of a stern and kind woman with dyed curly hair and scowling lips turning into a hidden smile.)

But she only has an absent father, and herself. It's not so bad now that she's able to wander around and take care of herself somewhat, but there are those moments where her father stares at her emptily and his gaze feels menacing. It's as if he's looking at an extraterrestrial being, and maybe he is. He's always telling her how a six month year old shouldn't be able to walk.

At the same time though, he's intrigued and she knows it. The way he grins when she surpasses each milestone is too wide and his eyes shift is too fast. He is her father though, so she doesn't mind. He may be a little odd, but then again, he's all she has.

One night, Hisoka—her father brings a girl to the hotel room and her body is shaking with contempt and true terror. Though he doesn't really spare her any glance, and instead looks at Sakiko adoringly. Her chest twists and her fingers tremble under the heavy gaze. It's not a nice look.

"This woman is going to be your caregiver from now on until I say so." Her father breathes in softly, unfazed by the prospect of another being taking care of his child. He leaves after nodding to both the girls and disappears as quick as he comes.

So the young child nods, curious by the new change. She stares intently at the young lady, who is probably in her teenage years, maybe even around her father's age. Her natural brown hair is long and wispy down to her waist. It's a great change compared to Hisoka, whose hair is dyed a neon pink and slicks unnaturally back. Her unblemished fair skin and light brown eyes hold an act of modesty and full tenderness that Sakiko's never seen before. However it's apparent that she is full of anxiousness and nerves, which makes the little baby frown in confusion.

"Hello caregiver. Name?" She asks with the limited amount of words she knows. The woman laughs a little bit too loud, and sweat is starting to form on her face.

"M-My name is Shurui Abaki. What's yours?" She smiles gently as she bends down to the girl's height. Sakiko proudly displays her full name as Sakiko Morrow, and leads her to her room, which is currently the corner of a hotel bedroom. Shurui Abaki asks her a few questions more, like why are they in a hotel room, where was her mother? But Sakiko doesn't know how to answer her without revealing her dad's red side. (The side where he can't stop laughing with red streaking his palms). So she shrugs absentmindedly and grabs the girl and pushes her knees down, hinting for the girl to sit down with her.

"Why are we in the corner, Sakiko?" The older girl asks openly, staring at the room before her. It's not too small for three people, with a queen size bed in the center, a small lounge chair to the right side of the bed, and the nightstand in the other. In its own simplistic way, it is satisfactory. Sakiko smiles.

"This is my sleeping spot!" She giggles softly and proceeds to lay down with a large blanket toppling most of her body. The rug-covered ground is rough and scratchy, but it's her space, so it's okay. Several seconds pass by, and only silence is returned. When she looks at Shurui Abaki expertly, she stares back at her uneasily. She looks surprised and kind of angry, but she says nothing. The little girl shifts back up uncomfortably.

She whispers quietly, cowering from the fear that she has done something wrong, "Uhm, Shurui Abaki, what's wrong?" And the older girl says nothing, only analyzing her features before sighing, and places her hands on the girl's shoulders. Sakiko gasps at the sudden contact.

"You can just call me Miss Abaki. Do you want me to get you a pillow?" She laughs real happily, and saunters off to the phone dialing the hotel's room service number and humming a slow tune. Dazedly, the little girl stares at her, awkwardly returning the grin.  
  


* * *

  


Compared to her father, it almost too easy to see through Miss Abaki facade, and after a few weeks, she knows every curve of it.

She is very distant and terribly so, but Sakiko is excited to finally see a girl in her life. She's pretty too, so it's nice to look at her features when she doesn't notice. The brunette always has her guard up and never leaves the room, just like her. It's almost as if she's waiting for something, but nothing ever happens. It's quite alarming, but this is in fact okay.

The little girl always pesters Miss Abaki about the outside world. "What's it like?" she squeals, and the young woman stares at her weirdly, before retelling the same old phrase: "It's nothing special."

Stumped, the younger one squints her eyes annoyed and goes off to the corner of the bed to stare at the wall while Miss Abaki cooks dinner. They don't really have groceries, but she somehow makes it work everytime, food of deliciousness. It's surely a big step from her father's sad excuse of leftovers.

Slowly but surely, Sakiko manages to chip away the walls built in the older woman's heart, and she starts to smile more and actually laugh. Other than her father, Miss Abaki has begun to be the only other human contact that Sakiko encountered. So she's become kind of like family, motherly and not too boring to be around.

The beautiful lady speaks bits and pieces of another language, one that is very familiar.  _It's_ _my_ _mother-tongue_ , Miss Abaki would say. But in the little girl's heart, this language brought memories of something else. It bothers her that she doesn't know what it is.

 _It is English_ , a faint voice whispers in the back of her mind, and her chest starts to hurt.

Naturally, Sakiko asks Miss Abaki to teach her the language, and she half-heartedly complies.

At first denial is to be expected but the little girl is surprisingly stubborn, using every excuse she knows. Apparently Miss Abaki doesn't mind or doesn't question it because she laughs it off and smiles.

"It's a mix of different languages all together basically," The brunette explained while folding her baby clothes, "It will not be easy."

She shakes her head in disagreement, but stays silent as she takes out her paper and pen. It can not be as hard as learning Japanese, she thought.

"Okay. To start off, let's learn how to count..."   
(Wai duz thes sem famelear?)

Abaki gave her lessons everyday. It was grueling and sometimes too much for her brain to comprehend as more memories began to evade her mind, from her former life.

 _It's been a long time_ , the soft voice lingers in the depths of her mind.  
(Why does this seem familiar?)

She remembers how she had two other siblings, and parents who adored them. She remembers how she was wealthy enough to live in a very nice house and go to private school in her early childhood years. And she remembers that she is not actually a little girl, but a teenager.   
  


* * *

  


And it doesn't take long for the pale toddler to finally learn the language.

Sakiko is now three. Her stomach churns in distaste but she ignores the sadness in her body and smiles bitterly. What are birthday parties, and birthday cakes? How is this even possible?

The night terrors of her death replays again and again, but she never remembers them. Despite the cold chills and sweat drenching her back, she wants to remember it.

"Why can't I remember it?" She sobs as Miss Abaki holds her tightly. The tears don't stop until hours after she wakes up, and Hisoka hasn't showed up in days.

(Why is she even remembering in the first place?)

Her angelic voice is soothing and brings peace in every way possible. Her lullaby, her voice—everything about Miss Abaki is gentle, and Sakiko feels so grateful. She's glad that she has something more than intrigued stares and cold eyes taking care of her. But the older woman never gets any sleep, and the guilt always gnaws at her heart everytime she sees her dozing off.

But then Sakiko sees a man in the dark, warm room. He's not her father, but he is tall and wears weird clothes like him. His blank cold stare lingers to Miss Abaki, but it's mostly directed at the little girl.

 _Who are you_? She asks quietly, but her voice doesn't waver and she's left staring back at the cold tall man in the dark warm room.

"Who are you?" He says back, stepping into her corner space as she gasps. There's a circular round thing acting as his tummy, and that long wispy mustache underneath his curving smile.

"How did you do that?" She whispers, but then he laughs out loud at her face and holds his mustache smiling.

"You can't hide thoughts from Time." His voice is high and scolding, but at the same time it's funny and she can't help but giggle at him.

Her eyes flicker to the lines and sharp corners at the edges of the circle moving with the rhythmic 'click', "What is that thing on your tummy?"

He stares at her weirdly before twirling around and pointing at his thing in shock, "Do you not know what this is? It's a clock!!"

"What's a clo—"

"Oh my goodness how stupid can a person actually be? A clock is a way to keep track of time. It's my stomach in case you didn't know."

"Why?"

"Well..."

And suddenly she's made a friend with a man with a clock as a stomach and it's not so lonely anymore.

But it's strange how Abaki never sees him and she cowers in the bathroom hiding when Sakiko starts talking to Mr. Time.  _What is she so afraid of? It's not like he's scary._  
  


* * *

 

Every time Sakiko's father comes back, It's always the same.

He will come back from his long absences, smelling of sweat, soap or blood of whoever was his latest kill. No matter if it's been a week or a day, he'll always return with his bubbly self. His skin might be paler than normal, or it might be riddled with cuts and bruises, temporarily concealed by his clothes. He might even be wearing some new fashion style he's fallen in love with. The two girls are ever so quiet everytime he barges through the door that a pin is a knife colliding with the floor.

He smirks as always and snatches the girl from Miss Abaki's clutches, and she yelps in terror. Sakiko stays there frozen but lets him do what he wants, and he locks the door of the hotel room again. He says something to the older woman, and her face is more pale than normal. She slowly treads to the bathroom door, and the only thing she hears is a loud click, while Hisoka sighs contently.

He'll always be here for the same reasons.

He'll introduce himself back into the little girl's life with a smile and a wave, as if coming back from a hard day's work. Inviting Sakiko to a little get together at the table in the opposite corner of her sleep space, and since there's only one chair, she kneels. Her knees burn.

There he'll treat her to the most expensive thing on the menu—the one where strange people come in, wear the same clothes, and shakily supply them food—and later he'll give a souvenir he'd stolen for her. And she'll oh, and ah at it, and actually appreciate it, not just saying thanks to avoid looking ungrateful. She's not aloud to look beyond the hotel room.

From then on the conversation will start. He'll tell Sakiko about his 'work'. He'll show her the pictures on his phones of the people he's meant to assassinate, but instead he plays with until they're dead. He'll show her the pictures of him traveling the area in his free time. Show her the adventures he's had, painting the tales with his vivid words and sparkling recollections, with photos of his dead opponents as recounting proof.

Then he'll tell her about his latest conquests in bed if any, and she'll try not to grimace and feel sick by his words, and at the men and women who had spent intimate moments with him. But the little girl will always listen intently to everything he says, because he is the beacon to the outside world. She understands that he's only ever had her as a person to speak with. And so she lets him talk.

"I hope one day I'll come with you," Sakiko whispers as she stares at the door behind him.

He rests his elbow on the small round table as he plays with his cards, "Maybe when you're actually strong. I can't let you slow me down, you know." Sakiko stares at him as a tiny bit of anger begins to bubble up. But she quickly shoves those feelings down too ashamed because, what kind of disgusting child is so selfish to her creator?

( _He's not your creator_ , the voices whisper but Sakiko can't bear to listen.)

"Make me stronger then," she shrugs nonchalantly. He smiles a little but continues to ignore her for a few minutes. They enjoy the little peace that comes between them and relish in it for awhile longer.

"I won't be able to until you're at least ten," He looks annoyed at that and she can finally understand why. Wasted years on someone who can potentially be his greatest fight in the future. "I'm sure that you'll be able to endure it in this age considering that you are my offspring," he continues, "but Abaki wants you to develop for several more years until I train you."

 _Abaki? When did he start listening to Miss Abaki?_  She stares at him weirdly, like he is a strange creature, "Since when did you two become friendly?"

A breeze sweeps past them both and chills find its way to Sakiko, but her father is still as always. He looks towards her in an odd way, as if he finally noticed too, "I guess she's not as dense as I thought."

She twists nastily, and pops form from the spine of her back. The conversation is nearing its end, and Sakiko is drowning in a fit of pique. She doesn't want to stay in this four cornered room. It's boring, so boring, even with Miss Abaki there. She wants to stall him, ask him more about his escapades, do anything for more time to convince—but he's already told her everything, and he won't repeat himself. He'll send her back to her corner in this boring room with a smile on his face as he watches her cry silently.

Her father's not really nice, but, how would she know?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: 02/24/19
> 
> OKAY. So... I haven't looked at this story in a loooong time (I think five months? Maybe more?) but I've rewritten some things and the next chapter will be up in a week, I think. Don't quote me on that, it might actually be earlier, so keep your eyes peeled. Anyway I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! MESSAGE ME PRIVATELY TO GIVE ME SOME IDEAS IF YOU'D LIKE? Love you all,
> 
> Sister M.


	2. Chapter 2: SINFUL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: young little girls aren't supposed know so much of the wicked, and yet, she was never a young little girl to begin with.
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Yoshihiro Togashi except for my oc, Sakiko.

II. SINFUL

罪深い

* * *

 

One day Miss Abaki tried to run. It was February, Sakiko thinks, when she had been sleeping on the floor, waking up to the sound of silence and no one was there. Her father was gone again, and Mr. Time disappeared as always. But Miss Abaki who always stayed with her when no one did —she  _left_  her.

And Sakiko looked everywhere too. She looked under the bed, in each drawer and cabinet in the kitchen, under the round small table even though she knew, Abaki would never fit in there. She even checked in the bathroom toilet and behind that large mirror but, Miss Abaki wasn't there.

The little girl screamed, and she screamed, but no matter how loud or long she did, nothing happened. Not even when she fell to the ground and threw her fists and feet forward and back as if she was hit by a stroke or a heart attack. (She supposes it might have actually been a heart attack, because her heat had never beat with such ferociousness and fear.) Miss Abaki didn't appear even when her voice broke and all that was left was a raspy tone of desperation. Not even when those people with the same old outfits busted into the room, and saw her there alone—in horror. Not even when they took her away and she passed out and all she could hope for was that it was all a bad dream.  _Nothing_.

When she awoke, she was no longer in the same room. It was cold and the dried tears on her face made her wince in discomfort, but at least the room was the same. She was in another empty desolate place, but when she looked up—her father was there.

He stares at her with a smile, the same revolting smile with cracked lips and narrowed eyes. His ugly, ugly body moving, edging closer and yet farther, as if he were a never-ending nightmare. She jumps in so much joy and terror and isn't that love? So because Sakiko loves Hisoka, she gets up jolting towards him. However he sidesteps her and pushes her enough that her back hits the cold mattress with a thud and unfortunately—her head against the hard bed frame.

_"Now, now. Settle down. It's not nice to attack your father before you say hello."_

"Hello... father." Her eyes are full and round and all she can really make out around the colored moving blurs in her eyes is his rage. Something stings, and she isn't sure where.

"Much better." He smiles again, and this time he caresses her cheek with a fingernail, stopping at the edge of her jawline.

"Father," Sakiko chokes out the words, wanting to cry and anyone to hug her, but he deepens his nail embedded in her skin and she winces, "Abaki is gone."

"I know." He whispers, wiping the blood dribbling from her chin, "Go back to sleep Little Miss."

And she did, her eyes closing for who knows how long. The blood dripping from her matted hair made sure of that.  
  


* * *

 

Groggily Sakiko wakes up once more, but this time, she hears sobbing. She slowly turns her in the direction of the noise, and walks forward to it, the whining sound coming from the bathroom. That voice, it's so eerily familiar and at the same time it is so strange to hear. Another cry juts out, this time louder and the faint sound of water running in tiny droplets in the shower is heard.

Quietly, Sakiko's tiny hand reaches over to turn the knob and she edges closer to the shower curtain. Pulling it open, there, she sees a woman sitting down hold her knees together shaking as her cries continue. She's in the bathtub, and the water is scalding, spraying everywhere. Sakiko stares at her for a moment, before saying in a breathless sound, "You're back."

Miss Abaki's head whips forward and her eyes shine in wet tears streaming down her cheeks. Her bloodshot eyes and cut up face almost have the same color, a dark red color that reminded her of Hisoka. She wants to ask how she got those bruises and bloody marks. However she doesn't say a word, and maybe it's for the best, but after three—maybe four seconds in to listening in the silent whimpers, Abaki shoots forward and holds Sakiko in her arms sobbing once more.

The water is scalding.

The never ending mantra of apologies and whispering sweet nothings in Sakiko's ear overshadows the hot water spraying over their body, though she can't help but feel cold. For some reason, it's almost as if she's apologizing to someone else but it doesn't matter. She's here and came back.

Sakiko just wants to cry in relief but she can't. (Why can't she cry?) Instead she holds her tightly as if this will make her stay forever, under the seething droplets and wet clothes clashed with naked skin. The anger and utter frustration she felt before is long gone now and it's replaced with forgiving love and relief for the older woman. Relief.

"It's okay."  
(And it is okay, because Miss Abaki came back, right?)

 

* * *

  
  
Mr. Time tells Sakiko it's been five weeks since the escape, and Miss Abaki has become different now.

On her good days, Miss Abaki wallows in misery but she still speaks. On those days, her words are slow and long with a lingering smell of alcohol as she sits under burnished copper walls with Sakiko. Only a couple empty bottles are surrounding them, and this is the only time she talks about everything.

_"You disgust me."_

Miss Abaki lives in the past, in the golden bygone days of her youth when the heavens were accessible and the future open and the world, while heavy on her shoulders, still utterly beautiful. Then her parents died, and she was left with nothing.

On those good days, Miss Abaki relives the first meal with people who decided she was worth something. Royal Glam Shows and circus tricks, Sakiko learns of Miss Abaki's apprenticeship to the Great Moritonio and how it is turned to ash with the teachings of nen disappeared along with it. She was a circus act.

"What's a circus act?"  
_Laughter_.

This was when her first dream erupts with excitement, to fulfill her Master's dream in becoming a hunter when he failed to do so in shame. Her strength, her resolve, and the youth she portrays makes Sakiko's body ache. Those halcyon days are tainted, and her tears and words always a slur at first with half-remembered happiness when she speaks of the outside world.

_"You have such an ugly heart."_

But on those good days, Miss Abaki is just empty and broken. She pets Sakiko's hair and braids it, thin hands trembling, and her eyes casting to a different place, reflecting only in Sakiko. In those moments, Sakiko is Miss Abaki's best friend, and she confides everything with equal measures of love and care, her words weaving stories in the sky. In those moments, she loves Sakiko as much as she can still love. And on those good days, Sakiko listens and listens and learns.

Don't  _ever_  have a dream or you'll be as good as dead trying to achieve it.

 _"You're going to become just like your father."_  
  


* * *

  


But of course Sakiko does not care for this lesson, at first.

Weeks after Miss Abaki's story is told, something within her soul begins to quiver each time Hisoka comes back and for just a moment—she can see something other than the old whining door. A beacon to the outside world. She knows she shouldn't be thinking about this, and maybe she should listen to Miss Abaki's scoldings but she cannot get rid of this feeling that she might be able to see everything in all it's glory.

So off Sakiko devises a plan to leave one night. She'd come back of course, but she just wanted to see what the stars looked like, or the blazing sun she's always heard of.

But hopefully her escape would be during the first early hours of the the day, when everything was dark but it was close to morning. The tricky part however was that she did not know what Time it was or how  _he_  worked, because he was a fellow that liked to play games and never be direct with her.

The man with a clock as his torso danced around the room nodding his head at Sakiko's exclamation and she giggled at his antics.

"Will you help me, Mr. Time?" She childishly whispered, as he twirled his arrows on his clock to the direction of the ceiling.

The black-eyed man squinted his eyes at her and with a shrill—"Do not call me Mr. Time! I told you that my name is Janus you stupid, stupid girl. How can anyone do anything for you if you are rude, girl?!" Time's face turns red in frustration as his arrows spin in circles and bounces off the walls. (He never stops moving.)

"Well, you are ruder, stupid man! Maybe if did this one request, I would not call you Mr. Time anymore!" The girl huffed at his words, annoyed.

"Hmm... Stupid girl, you'll have your deal," He laughed at her expression, "but if you do not show respect for me after my gracious assistance, I'll reverse myself and never help you in the first place!"

"What?" She asked aloud in confusuon, but the man vanished right when Miss Abaki walked out of the kitchen with raised eyebrows and narrowed eyes. After a tense moment, she glared

"Stop talking to yourself. It's scaring me." Abaki speaks and half-blinded by feelings she didn't know what to call, Sakiko stumbles to the floor.

But Sakiko is not talking herself, she swears that Mr. Time is real—but the voices in her head—( _I'm talking to you, aren't I?_ )

Her caregiver has become something else. A spiteful soul full of anger and regret. She hates the four cornered room. She hates Hisoka and the way he is able to make her bend to his every will. She hates and hates and hates.

When Miss Abaki looks at Sakiko, looks at the little girl who convinced her to give up so much, and she hates.

(It burns in her gut, a bright flame that should catch everything about her on fire.)  
  


* * *

 

It's night, and Mr. Time wakes her with a shrill.

Mind made up, Sakiko found an old satchel in her closet and stuffs it with whatever she can find. A change of clothes, a hairbrush, an empty journal, and a bracelet that belonged to Miss Abaki. Father threw it in the trash shortly after her arrival, and Sakiko was able to salvaged it, keeping it under her pillow on the dirty rug.

She tested her window and found that it opened. Peering out, there was a ledge that allowed her to reach another room. After the sun set and the room was quiet, Sakiko crawled out onto the ledge and pushed open the window just enough to place a letter she wrote on the nightstand. Miss Abaki would see it in the morning and read it to herself. Then she carefully made her way to the other window.

Having been locked within rooms for most of her life and never being let out, she was understandably terrified of this new territory. Sakiko has never been anywhere but here before, the girl shakes in her overly large clothes, found discarded in the lost and found at the hotel.

She's too scared to look now though she does anyway and the view is unimaginable. The sky is better than she could ever think of, with its starry features and moon lit life that glimmers throughout the sleeping city. It is breathtaking, so much so that she can't help but cry from having the opportunity to finally see it and claim it as her own.

She knows now that maybe this is why Miss Abaki is angry. The outside is a drug, a throbbing addiction that cannot be sated nor dulled. You cannot go back. And Sakiko decides that she never wants to go back.

(At least, that night she doesn't.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LMAO I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS IT WAS KIND OF NOT THAT MUCH COMPARED TO THAT BIG ASS PROLOGUE/CHAPTER ONE BUT IT WAS STILL NEEDED. I feel like Miss Abaki is a weird character to write about, because you can clearly see she's a regular human being, like us. You can feel and understand the pain of being locked up from society, and unlike Sakiko, Abaki knows what she's lost. I think that's why she's heading towards a state of insanity, if you didn't already know. It's a heavy chapter, I know, but there is still more to come.
> 
> Also if you see any grammatical errors or phrases that seem awkward, do not hesitate to tell me. You can also message me if you'd like to give some plot and storyline ideas. I'd love your feedback. / Though I'd rather you'd tell me privately so we don't disrupt the reviews :) /
> 
> Have an amazing month, (because it's gonna take way longer than that for me to update)
> 
> Sister Maleine.

**Author's Note:**

> OOF THIS HAS BEEN IN THE MAKING FOR MONTHS BUT I never got around to actually publishing it for the world to see.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you.


End file.
